


not a matter of appetite

by 24ko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/24ko/pseuds/24ko
Summary: It's winter and Jesse's out of a bad relationship and out of a job. His pride won't let him admit he needs help, but he does, and the dads welcome him back lovingly enough. So he moves back and passes the time working for free (paid in "food and shelter," as always) at the family bakery and looking for a different job closer to home.Hell, the only thing he misses about the past few months are late night ramen runs. How it feels right now, outside - it's the right kind of weather to share a hearty meal with someone. He says as much aloud and wonders about the nice ramen place that used to be next door."They retired and moved away. Their sons took over. Sounds nice, doesn't it, Jesse?"





	not a matter of appetite

**Author's Note:**

> hi again - welcome to my "coping with another school year" project! it's another combination "author has no stamina" and "author is bad at tagging" fic from yours truly. i'll update tags as needed each chapter. so far, i have no idea what the update schedule will look like, but the goal is every other week. thank you for reading!

Historic downtown area. The kind where there's living space above businesses on the ground floor. The kind that's susceptible to gentrification. The kind that's home.  
  
Jesse hasn't been able to call something home in so long: it's winter and he's out of a bad relationship, out of a job. Pride won't let him admit he needs help, but misery communicates it pretty thorough based his increased volume of phone calls home. The dads don't call him out on his shit, and he's thankful for it. Pops offers him an out - so Jesse moves back and passes the time working in the family bakery in return for food and shelter. It's like he's in college again and home for breaks. Hell, the only thing he misses about the past few months are late night ramen runs. How it feels right now, outside - it's the right kind of weather to share a hearty meal with someone.  
  
He says as much when the dads come down one day to argue about changing out some of the dusty old wall decor. "Ramen sure would hit the spot right about now. Agree?"  
  
"You know where the instant stuff is," Pops shoots back. He shakes the tape measure at Jesse threateningly, like he knows about Dad going on food runs for staff every other day - at Jesse's suggestion, of course. He probably does.  
  
"Yeah, _my room_. Y'all think you're funny!" Jesse tries to sulk on his stool without falling. He's partially successful. "Shame about the place next door. The Hamadas, right? They didn't renew their lease?" He clicks around all absent-minded on his laptop. He's got four different job applications started right now.  
  
"They did. The Shimadas." Dad sits facing Jesse at one of the wobbling tables. Through his brace, he rubs at his left knee, shitty and aching. "Then they moved away."  
  
He stops there, so Jesse stops chewing on the end of his pen and beckons for him to keep going. "So next door... is theirs? But not?"  
  
Dad eases his glasses off his face next. He's got a fading glasses tan from the brutal summer earlier this year, and he's gained a few more freckles too; they're peppered along the deepening creases on his face. All these reminders of his parents' age, all the changes to this cozy, sleepy street they occupy downtown... How much has Jesse really missed in the time he's spent away?  
  
"Their sons took over," Dad answers, gruff. He wipes at his glasses with the wrinkled microfiber cloth he carries everywhere. "Must be nice. Doesn't it sound nice, Gabe?" Pops doesn't answer - from where he is in the bakery, there's just the awkward, bendy wobbling sound and retracting snap of the tape measure. "Doesn't it sound _nice_ , Jesse."  
  
Jesse peeks cautiously from over the top of his laptop and meets Dad's steely blue gaze, expectant and serious. So he nods, maybe too enthusiastic to be sincere, and buries his face into his laptop again. Pops snorts when he looks over his shoulder at the two of them. _Ah_ , such is the full home experience. He opens up a new job listing the same time a new order comes in through the bakery email. Jesse reads it out loud in an attempt to distance himself from Dad's feelings about the Shimada kids taking over for their parents. He's not ready for a conversation like that yet. Maybe not at all.  
  
Next week doesn't see a huge change in customer flow, but it's a little lonely. The student crowd thins out as different campuses release students for winter break, and Jesse knows there's still some stragglers desperately cramming for finals. One kid has been here since opening - Jesse's a little concerned because he's been staring at the same photo of broccoli for about 25 minutes now. But that's just one kid, and aside from the other staff, the bakery is empty.  Wherever the other stragglers are, they're not _here_ \- they're mysteriously gone, like they've disappeared from downtown. Or like they're avoiding something. There haven't been any heinous Yelp or paper reviews about their bakery lately, so...  
  
The absence stops being so mysterious when the wall they share with the Shimadas next door shakes. It shakes hard enough to startle Broccoli out of his reverie. When whatever it is doesn't immediately stop, Broccoli hastily packs his things and leaves - probably for another place to study.  
  
It's the damn renovation noises going on next door, Jesse realizes. He can hardly hear himself _think_ now that he notices it, and he's ready to give them a piece of his mind. Things are tough for local businesses, and if this is a regular thing that happens when he's gone... Maybe he's getting too far ahead of himself, but he doesn't wanna see the consequences of this bullshit put his dads out of a business - or out of a home.  
  
Jesse teeters between giving next door a piece of his mind and letting this go. God knows he's gotten in trouble like this before, shooting his mouth off before he can talk himself out of it. He thinks he's made the right choice because the thumping and hammering and other assorted fuckery stops.  
  
One of the new kids behind him is experimenting with making herself a drink while it's slow. She's almost done when their whole suite groans and rumbles - unusual with their older heating system, but _not_ unusual for an earthquake. She tosses her drink up with a shout, ready to dive under the counter. And it takes a split second, but when she realizes it's not what she thinks - when she realizes what she's done, she runs the fuck away from the hot coffee splash zone. "Sorry!"  
  
It's not even renovation anymore. Their shared wall pulses like there's a sound system pressed flush against it. It pulses like a cartoon villain's physics experiment from hell. Once again, Jesse can hardly think; and because of that, he can hardly talk himself down this time. He's got his sleeves pushed up like he's gonna use his fists, and then he's out the bakery, marching with singular focus next door. In lieu of proper outerwear, the fledgling flames of his frustration keep him warm in the short distance between their entrance and the Shimadas.  
  
When he reaches for the smooth bar handle of the not-ramen place next door, Jesse is shaken by the revelation that even though he practically grew up with this place, like the Shimada kids and his dads' bakery - it's different now. It's the same handle he's always grabbed. It's the same glass door, the same glass that's always made up their shop front. It's still polished impeccably despite the brown kraft paper shielding the inside from prying eyes. He'll bet that's 'cause they still got people slamming face-first into the glass, and he'll bet that Dad Shimada still cusses and breaks out the Windex every time. Well, if he were there to see it. Which he's not, now. Jesse lets himself in, and he's shocked the front door is even unlocked at all.  
  
It's not the same cozy mom-and-pop place, the authentic hole-in-the-wall that offered charming conversation with a good meal, cooked with care. It'd be hard to compare any of that to the fuckin' club music, a dirty cacophony of electronica, threatening to bring the whole place down from the back. Gone are the elegant glossy tables with the scuff marks Mom Shimada always tried to fix herself; the matching chairs with vaguely sticky cushions that had her _and_ her husband perplexed by their clientele's sitting history. The furniture that's replaced it all - what's put together right now, anyway - is minimalist like all the furniture in all the other new shops popping up downtown, forcing out older businesses and good people he's grown up knowing.  
  
"Hey!" Jesse shouts, just before the bass drops.  
  
No answer. So Jesse leans over the low front counter, tucked away to the side, and looks for any sign of life beyond the weakly-swinging aluminum doors into the kitchen. They used to do their transactions here - parents and a couple other hired hands cooking in the back or taking orders out front, and one of the two kids stationed here. The older one would do homework. The younger one would play video games. There was a clunky ass register partially obscured by a strategically-placed plant, with toothpicks and the candy bowl to the side. It was always old Halloween candy the younger kid got sick of. And then there was a bell to ring for service that only worked half the time.  
  
But the bell's gone, too - sucks. The counter is bare except for a can of Mountain Dew on two crumpled Chipotle napkins. It looks like it's been there awhile.  
  
Jesse ventures a second go at calling one of the Shimadas out. He times it for when this current song winds down and fades into the intro of the next. "Hey!"  
  
The shaking doesn't pick up like before, but it's not entirely gone, either. And then _this_ asshole comes out the kitchen. Jesse sees their back first: broad shoulders and a lean body that's definitely tried to bulk up; a narrow waist, like the kind you see on wannabe gymnasts that don't know the first thing about being competition-ready - so not too toned, at least not that he can tell at a glance. His eyes are drawn to the murky green and gold and black mess atop this fucker's head; not slicked back, but staying put from what's probably hours of fingers being carded through the strands.  
  
Jesse thinks he should recognize this person when they turn around, but he doesn't pick up on it. So he focuses on the goods instead - a stainless steel bowl of freshly-fried chicken. Instead of giving this asshole a piece of his mind like he intended, he groans. He honest to god _groans_ because this is technically his lunch break and he is a hungry bastard.  
  
"Nice of you to visit Dragon Den," says the asshole, shaking the bowl of chicken... like an asshole.  
  
Actually, Jesse is unsure what the shaking is about. Is it an offer? Is there stuff mixed in, is the shaking just a finishing touch? Does this fuck know Jesse's hungry. Is that it. Or...  
  
"Soft opening isn't for a couple more weeks." And then this asshole just _starts eating_. Starts eating _in front of him_ , like he's not here starving and certainly like he's not ready to throw hands. He might just throw hands after all, but into the chicken bowl instead. "Something I can do for you? Or you just like to watch?"  
  
It's not flirting, or it might be. He doesn't know what the hell it is or what the hell he feels _now_ , but Jesse is mighty impressed by how this Shimada strips the chicken off the bone so efficiently. Might be a haughty fucker, this one, but there's something enthralling about someone knowing their way around fried chicken. Jesse clears his throat and ignores the sheer glee with which Shimada tosses the leftover bone into the bin he's assuming is under the counter. Half-assuming, maybe half-hoping. The flat soda on the fast food napkins give him some hope that the Shimada parents didn't raise a heathen.  
  
"You wanna knock it off with all the noise?" He says, finally. "You're ruining the mood around here. Ain't no one in my bakery can focus. You're driving all the business out." Jesse gestures towards the glass shop front as if to make a point, even though it's covered up, but the Shimada's eyes don't actually follow his hands.  
  
" _Your_ bakery?" The reply is incredulous. Shimada looks him up and down, leans back a little, and does it again. Jesse's almost offended. "Jesse, right? The kid next door. You don't recognize me, do you?" Heat starts prickling at the back of Jesse's neck. This situation, awkward? Awkward is an understatement. Jesse didn't even remember the right family name when it came up a week ago. He's good with faces, less good with names, and even less good with names he hasn't thought about in years. He's about to answer, when Shimada speaks up again. "Good. I'll introduce myself..." A pause, like some thinking is going on there in Shimada's head. "...again. Genji." Another pause. Can they even be called pauses? He barely waits long enough for Jesse to acknowledge jack shit. " _Hanzo's_ brother?"  
  
And it sounds genuine, that first part. Genji doesn't smile, but he's got a little snaggletooth showing 'cause he hasn't closed his mouth all the way; the corners of his eyes crinkle a little. But that second pause is loaded, like there's some issues - issues,  _plural_ \- that have to be unpacked there - and that's none of his damn business. Jesse doesn't chase for answers. "Genji," he repeats, like he's trying out the name for the first time. And he might be.  
  
Genji deflates just a little, but it's a blink-and-you-miss-it type thing - and Jesse didn't blink, so he didn't miss it. "Genji," Genji tries to reassert.  
  
"Yeah," Jesse says, carefully. "You. Genji Hamada."  
  
Genji's lips part a little - he's obviously startled. The faint divot between his eyebrows deepens slightly when they shoot up, but something - his relief, maybe - is palpable, emphasized when he rolls his eyes and laughs his asshole laugh. A boyish, angular face; a narrow nose with a gentle slope. Jesse recognizes his wide, toothy smile when he's done laughing. A softness - baby fat that was always there, that he didn't catch before; cheeks fullest when his face lights up with bona fide elation.  
  
It wouldn't be farfetched to venture a guess that Genji's been teased about not looking how he wants 'cause of things out of his control. It takes Jesse awhile to put names to faces, but he doesn't forget stuff like that. He doesn't forget people's "isms" - the actions and quirks that are uniquely theirs. He remembers now: the way the nose on that face scrunches up in frustration, like when mom puts her foot down and says _Hanzo has his exam this morning, and you only have to stay four hours_. Faint laugh lines that get even deeper with misuse in the way of resentment. Jesse says nothing.  
  
" _Shi_ -mada! _Shi_ -mada. I remember your name all this time, but you can't do the same. You're a mess." Genji disappears into the kitchen quickly, but darts back out in no time at all with a box. "An ugly mess," he declares, all while piling the chicken in carefully, like a kid moving food to the take-home box at family dinner out for the first time. He chats Jesse's ear off while he does it. It's a lot of chicken.  
  
(Jesse samples the chicken at Genji's insistence. Genji only _insists_ because Jesse won't make eye contact with him - Jesse instead looks at the chicken like a lost lover. Genji then insists that Jesse take the rest: he's got plenty of chicken, he's experimenting anyway, Jesse needs it more than he does... so on and so forth.)  
  
( _You made this?_ It's delicious - crispy, the flavor a rich soy, with just the right amount of sweet and savory and heat. _You like it? Is it good?_ It makes his eyes water. He licks his fingers after the one piece. It would be unbecoming to inhale the rest of it in front of company. _Real good._ )  
  
Eventually, Genji lets him go. He says he's happy to see a familiar face around here - says he's tired of the only face he sees being his brother's - says Jesse hasn't changed at all. But then more deviously, he says he's going to steal the student crowd away. Jesse scoffs and tells him not with his shitty taste in music. But in truth, he's not sure - kids listen to some jarring shit these days. And even if they didn't, it won't take long for people to discover the chicken here. And that's only part of the menu - he's not sure what they could go for now, if they're not gonna specialize in ramen like before. If they were serious about the student crowd thing, though, there's a lot they could potentially offer. Dragon Den could definitely rival them in this part of downtown - and some competition could be good. Then again, a place to study and a place to hang out... coexistence is possible, too.  
  
His hands are kept warm by the box of chicken. The residual heat of the styrofoam feels pleasant; he'd make more chicken runs just to feel this alone. Jesse returns to the bakery a little dazed. New girl has obviously seen him coming - how could she not? He left almost 45 minutes ago, so she's probably been waiting on him so she could go to lunch. She scurries back to her station and pretends to check on the few conchas left in the display case.  
  
"Did you... have a good lunch?" She says, all shy. Jesse joins her behind the counter and sets his chicken aside. If she realizes the chicken came from the very place he was gonna shout down an hour ago, she doesn't say - and for that, Jesse is deeply appreciative. _That_ there is employee of the month material, in his opinion.  
  
"Sorry, Mei," he offers, dipping his head a little like it makes his apology more sincere. It's hard to miss the tiny fuzzy shoulder bag she tries to hide behind, like she'd rather stay than interrupt his thoughts and take her lunch. She shakes her head and offers him a timid smile - full cheeks, closed mouth; polite. Jesse thinks about snaggletooth and authenticity - an unapologetic existence. Shitty electronica starts up again as if on cue, and she takes her leave. Probably because she thinks he might disappear for another 45 minutes in a second attempt next door.

Jesse thinks about it - next door. Jesse thinks about the new name he's learned; the name he's trying to commit to memory.  
  
Yeah. Charming conversation with a good meal, cooked with care.  
  
He'd call it a good lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> like to talk? me too! @ me on [tumblr](http://magnetholic.tumblr.com).  
> s/o to my beta readers: [andy](http://princeoffluff.tumblr.com) and [sammie](http://samuraicorgis.tumblr.com) and my best friend tiff!


End file.
